Of Valentines and Clichés
by fearwrites
Summary: Erik has a plan to ask Christine the most important question of both their lives. What he didn't account for, however, was that a single sentence would make him doubt all of it at the last minute. [Modern AU, established E/C. Valentine's Day themed - fluff with a touch of humor.]


A single phrase. It was all it took to make Erik crumble to pieces beside her.

The whole ordeal begun a month prior to their fifth Valentine's Day together. Christine had gone to sleep earlier than most nights after a particularly taxing day, leaving him alone with his thoughts even after he crawled into bed beside her. Whenever this happened, Erik would simply fall through the Internet's many holes, scrolling away at his phone; this time, instead of watching random videos until he felt tired enough to rest, he had ended up on a jewelry website. It had not been a conscious thought which brought him there, and he quickly closed the app when he felt her shift beside him... but then he glanced to his left when the movement stopped and his girlfriend, in a cocoon of all their blankets and drooling onto her pillow, was definitely still deeply asleep. Erik let his own body sag, then took a breath.

It wouldn't hurt, just this once.

Or so he had thought, since days later he'd be receiving a package with a ring inside. They had discussed marriage before, of course, but it had been some time ago and a vague discussion of what-ifs and somedays. They had been living together for three out of their five years together, slipping into domestic bliss as his house didn't feel as empty as before, and he knew he would gladly live this way - with her - for the rest of his days. Erik was happy, happier than he had ever been in his life, and Christine always showed how she loved him just as much.

He hid the ring deep within the drawer that held all his compositions, the only one he knew Christine never opened when she went on her cleaning sprees, and began to think when and how to ask the question. Piecing it together took much of his attention for days; as he and Christine had their weekly movie night, Erik could only stare, distracted, at the screen while she laid on top of his chest. She had chosen a random sci-fi flick with mediocre special effects, but he had no idea what it was about - all he was aware of was of her weight above him, his fingers within her hair, and the rise and fall of her shoulders that mirrored his own breathing.

"Are you asleep?"

It was nothing more than a whisper, but it made him straighten up slightly, shifting in place, and he felt his bones crack in protest at being inert for so long. The credits were rolling and the movie had ended without him realizing. Christine giggled, turning her head to look at him – it still baffled him, after all these years, how she could bear to do so when he wasn't wearing his mask.

"I thought so. You aren't grumbling about the bad ending."

"I don't grumble," he answered, pressing a kiss to her face. "And I wasn't asleep, I was... thinking."

A bright idea burst through the surface at that exact moment. Their movie nights - that one time had been a blessed exception, but whenever Christine chose what they would watch, she would immediately hover over to the romances, all kinds of them; there were quite a few times where he'd ended up holding her on their couch or their bed as she cried, be it happy or sad tears for the couples on-screen.

She and their friends always insisted Erik was romantic, deep down, but in truth he had never understood why. Some said it was his gifts, while others said it was his whole demeanor when Christine was around, even if he regarded it as something ordinary or unconscious. He was used to chuckling and shrugging it off whenever it was mentioned. Now was the time to go out of his way to actually attempt to be romantic, and there was not a more fitting day than Valentine's Day. It would give him weeks to plan the day, to make reservations and schedule deliveries in advance to what would be a bustling day for all businesses; yes, it was a perfect opportunity, and he would make it so for his Christine.

* * *

When the day arrived, he announced that they'd be changing their normal tradition of staying in and singing together for as long as they could. She frowned slightly at the loss of their annual music haven.

"Well, then, what are we doing?"

"Wait and see, love," he replied, earning an unamused stare from her. Erik simply shrugged and kissed her. "Go, do your show. I'll meet you outside after."

* * *

There were unfamiliar knocks at the front door as he got ready, exactly half an hour before he was meant to meet her, and just as he placed his black mask over his face. _Perfect. _Erik took the flowers from the delivery man, passing him some of his pocket change as a tip, then closed the door behind him and placed the bouquet on the living room table. He felt himself trembling by the time he took some of his office's stationery, settling beside the roses to write her a message. Now, perhaps an hour or two before he would ask her to marry him, was the first time he ever began to doubt. She could say no – Erik was so sure they were both ready, but there was always the possibility (one which he loathed to admit) that he could be wrong.

Fidgeting with his suit, he looked at the pen in his hand, and remembered the day she gifted it to him. It had been their third Christmas together, and the first – and last - year where they had mutually agreed that they wouldn't get a gift for each other; all, of course, a scheme to surprise her. It backfired for both of them, as Christine started literally rolling on the floor with laughter as soon as he took a small gift with an oversized bow from the pile beneath their tree, meant for her as a surprise; she reached out and pulled her own neatly wrapped box, the very same one that he had always assumed was a gift for her friend Raoul, dropping it onto his lap. So much for not spending on each other.

Christine insisted Erik open his first – inside was a fountain pen, identical in all but color to the one he had used for his composing for many years.

_"__You said your pen was starting to scratch and dry easily," _she had said, looking at him as he examined it. _"It took me a bit to find since it's probably over a decade old, but I'm pretty sure it's the same model. Just in gray instead of black."_

It was a most thoughtful gift, and he took the pen nearly everywhere with him if there was a need to write. Aided by the memory, Erik took a deep breath and simply wrote.

_Happy V Day. Turn around. –E. D. _

He supposed there was no need for more, if he meant to speak before actually popping the question. Then, he placed the card within an envelope, putting it within the arrangement of red and pink roses; he made sure to keep it visible, as his Christine tended to be a little shortsighted. Glancing at the clock on the wall, Erik made sure he was still on time before making his way into his office, towards his desk, and pulling open the drawer beside his chair.

He only had to move a couple of pages out of the way before he saw the wooden flat box. Though he knew it was unnecessary, Erik still opened it – there it was, the most important object in his life as of right now, with its shiny gold and encrusted diamonds and the promise of forever it represented. He closed the box once more, slipped it into his pocket, and finished off preparations before heading out.

* * *

Christine knew exactly where he was going as soon as he began driving through their usual route, and she showed so with a squeeze to his hand and happy chitchat as she looked out the car window. It was a small, well-known restaurant, her favorite, one they only indulged in on special occasions.

"We never do anything like this on Valentine's Day," she noted as they stood in line, hands laced together. "What changed?"

"Five years together," Erik reminded her. He was glad to see the place was not as crowded as he had thought it would be. "I am in my right to spoil you as I see fit."

"Oh, you're insufferable."

He simply smirked and gave the hostess his last name; they were lead to a table in the quieter corners of the place - to avoid other patrons' stares – where he helped her sit before doing so himself. Both looked through the menu, idle, holding hands over the table.

"Same as always?" she offered, then teased. "Or are we changing that, too?"

He raised an eyebrow. "We could always cancel and go home, since you're so bothered by us doing something today rather than staying inside and eating way too much chocolate."

"Just joking, love. It's weird to see you break your habits, that's all."

He ignored, with all his might, the way his heartrate sped up when he heard her words. Erik shook his head in response, hiding his nerves behind a cover of fond amusement.

"All ready?" Their waiter asked, coming up beside them about ten minutes later. Christine nodded, opened her mouth, but was interrupted when a loud, high-pitched _squeal_ came from one of the other tables. Mildly concerned, the couple and the server with them looked around.

The source of the sound was quickly found in the form of a woman with her hands over her face, sitting with at least five other people in the center of the room. There was a man beside her… holding an open ring box in his hand. The woman listened to something he said, which they could not hear, then frantically nodded. The group with them erupted into cheers, with everyone else in the place applauding as the ring was slid onto her finger and pictures were taken by their companions, who were evidently in on the proposal considering the high-fives they were sharing around themselves. The ring box in Erik's own pocket now felt tons heavier than it truly was.

Christine said nothing about what transpired in front of them as the clapping died down, simply giving both of their orders to the waiter. Their drinks were brought around first and they gave a quiet toast, a stark contrast of wine and water in their glasses; Erik wished Christine wasn't the only one with actual alcohol in her drink, but he was going to be driving them home after. He'd just have to survive without the nerve-soothing effect of a drink or two.

As they ate, he noticed the woman in front of him would occasionally glance back to the table where the engaged couple was, seemingly thinking. Erik eventually knew he had to question it.

"Something wrong, dear? Did the lady give back the ring?"

"Oh my god, don't say that," she shushed him, delivering a soft tap to his hand in annoyance. It made him chuckle. "Of course she didn't."

"Then why do you keep looking at them like she did?" He took a sip of his water.

"It's just that… proposing on Valentine's Day," she said, then laughed quietly. "It's such a cliché."

The best use his masks had, right after covering his horrible semblance of a face, was hiding changes to the color of his skin in that area. This was one of the few moments Erik was glad he had to wear the damnable thing, as he had just felt the little color he had completely drain from his face.

"I –" His voice came out tight and he cleared his throat to cover it. "I thought you liked clichés."

She shrugged and laughed again. "Not that much."

_Great. Just great. _He simply nodded along, eating some of the food in front of him to keep his unbothered appearance. What was he supposed to do now? His whole plan to propose had been based on the assumption that it'd be romantic, that she would like it – and she had just unknowingly wrecked it when it was too late to take back. He was panicking now; maybe he could say he forgot his wallet at home, drive back alone, and toss the flower vase into some forgotten corner of the attic until tomorrow and try again. No, that wouldn't work, the roses would wither away by then and he couldn't just leave her here. He made up countless scenarios of how he could cancel the proposal before it even happened, and one-by-one he discarded them all.

Erik would just have to somehow _breathe_ and go through with it.

* * *

He pretended his hands weren't shaking as he pushed open their front door, letting Christine go in before him. She waited as he closed it shut, circling her arms around his waist and leaning her face onto his back. He turned around so they were face to face and kissed her, something that, thankfully, grounded him before he collapsed from sheer stress.

"Thanks for dinner, love," she said, smiling. A suggestive hand trailed up to his shoulder, barely touching his neck.

Erik shook his head, face heating. "Actually, there's… one more thing."

He gently led her towards their living room with a hand on her waist, and he saw as her blue eyes landed on the arrangement atop the table.

"Oh, Erik," she sighed. "You didn't have to."

"Aren't you going to read the note?"

_This is it. _He watched closely as she walked towards his gift, then swiftly removed the box from his pocket as she plucked the envelope from its place within the flowers. He slowly took a few steps to be nearer to her, making sure Christine wouldn't peek back; he opened the slim box behind his back and dropped to one knee as she read.

"Erik, what –"

It took her a moment to realize what was happening as soon as her eyes landed on him, after following the written instructions and turning. Confusion was shown clearly on her face, then shock that caused her to drop the card onto the floor.

"After my father passed, I thought I would never feel safe with someone else ever again," he began, swallowing. The knot in his throat grew with each word. "Then you and your angel's voice came into my life by chance when I was barely holding onto my promise of staying away from the needle; if I hadn't been your teacher, I would have fallen back into my darkest times and probably never made it back out. If I am still here, in one piece, Christine Daaé… it is because you have given me strength. There is no one else I could possibly share the rest of my life with – will you marry me?"

She was sobbing as she stood in front of him, and it was the longest few seconds of his whole life before she did something – she crossed the little distance between them in slow steps and removed the mask, letting it clatter to the floor. It was only as she looked at him without it that she could speak through her tears.

"Yes," she replied. He froze. "A million times, yes."

_She said yes. She said yes!_

She then pulled him to his feet and crushed him into an embrace. Dumbfounded, Erik still held the box behind her back as he returned it; it was only after recovering some of his conscience that he pulled back, taking her left hand. Christine nodded, confirming her previous answer, and he slid the ring onto her finger. She didn't take a closer look at it, instead pulling him down for a long kiss, speaking after.

"Is - is this why you've been acting weird today?"

He laughed. "I've been planning this since last month, actually, but I suppose it is."

"Since last month?" she echoed, incredulous. "How did I not notice?"

"I did my best to keep quiet," he replied easily. "However, the one problem I did not anticipate was that it is _such a cliché._"

Her eyes widened, thinking back to the restaurant and the other recently-engaged couple they saw, her words to him about it. Erik had been oddly quiet after she said so, but she had paid it no mind – they'd been in public for a while and he wasn't usually at ease with it the more time passed. Christine felt herself tear up again, hands covering her mouth – he must have been so nervous and she had unconsciously made it worse.

"Oh my god, I'm such an idiot," she cried, placing her head against his chest again. "I'm so sorry, Erik, I –"

"No, don't. You had no idea, dearest, and this is supposed to be a happy moment. I'm only teasing you." It was as she calmed down, with some more reassurance from him, that he took his phone from his pocket, showing it to her as he held her with one arm. "Now, I'm sure your Instagram followers will want to know their favorite actress is newly engaged."

Christine squeaked, turning away and hiding her face between him and her hair, her muffled voice speaking a threat. "I look like garbage, Erik, and I will toss that thing out the window if you dare take a picture of me right now."

He scoffed. "You do know who you're speaking to, right?"

He took the picture anyway, turning his phone sideways and at an angle; the photo didn't show either of their faces, only part of his chin, her blonde locks, and her left hand and ring as it sat atop his shoulder in their embrace.

"Thank you for everything, Erik," she said after a while, taking his hand. "Proposing on Valentine's Day may automatically make it very cheesy, but I'm so happy I'll let it slide."

He laughed in response and let her lead him towards the stairs as she spoke once more. "Bed?"

"Tired from the show?" he asked in return, sympathetic. Her smile was devilish.

"I don't remember mentioning sleep, love."

* * *

She posted the picture he took in the middle of the night, adding a black and white filter over it to fit her current aesthetic but no caption. Both of their phones – as she tagged him in the post – threatened to blow up with the chiming of continuous notifications, an outpour of love from those that followed her for her acting and the congratulatory texts from all their friends after they woke up and saw the news.

The mask remained on the floor downstairs, forgotten, until the next day.

**A/N: This was originally posted on AO3 a week ago as a late Valentine's Day one-shot and I've decided to post it on here as well. Thank you for reading!**


End file.
